


every trace of you

by liesmith



Category: Cow Chop
Genre: M/M, gags and drool and stuff, this is a dirty boy rowdy boy fic hope yall ready, this is pretty gross just heads up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 00:59:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11703483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liesmith/pseuds/liesmith
Summary: the warehouse is quietorjames learns a valuable lesson in silence





	every trace of you

He doesn’t know how the fuck he gets in these kinda situations.

Sat between Brett’s legs, fingers in his mouth, exploring and teasing, clearly trying to see where the stopping point is.

Lucky for Brett, James guesses, his gag reflex is a bit nonexistent.

“I have to admit,” Brett starts, eyes lid as he watches James, one hand cupping his cheek, “you’re really a messy fuck.”

James glares and bites down, just enough to make Brett laugh, but not enough to make him pull away. As annoying as it is being practically silent and unable to mouth off back, he doesn’t want Brett to stop, if the chub in his jeans has any say in it.

“You do hate this, though. Can’t talk back,” Brett sighs dramatically, as if he really cares about the fact James can’t speak, fingers pressing against the back of his throat. Makes James shudder, and he just gives an obedient suck now, his tongue sliding between his fingers. Feels smug when Brett makes a noise that catches in his throat. Just as good. Brett pulls his fingers out to let them just rest on James’ bottom lip, and James still flicks his tongue at towards them, keeps his gaze steady with Brett’s the whole time.

“Wanna try something?”

“Not really,” James offers, licking his already wet lips, brows furrowed at Brett, “you’re a kinky fuck. Worries me.”

“C’mon. It’ll be fun.”

“For you.”

“Well, yes, but still.”

James eyes him, wary, but sighs, shrugs. “Yeah, alright. I… trust you.”

The words make Brett give him a grin that’s all predatory, and James most definitely feels like the proverbial canary that the proverbial cat is gonna fuck. He should have just stuck to his guns.

Brett gets up from the computer chair, disappears into his kitty-corner of an office. James has no idea how he hid the gag he returns with, simple and basic in it’s design, the ones he’s seen in all the trashy porn he used to beat off too.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Brett shrugs, sits back down on the computer chair, knees bracketing James’ head, “you still game?”

“Sure,” James says, but his heart says no. How will he tell Brett how old he is and how shit he is at everything if he’s gagged?

Still, his mouth opens, and he lets Brett place the gag. The fit is snug, sits just below his hairline, and Brett pats his head in that kind of annoying condescending way.

“Attaboy. C’mere,” He pats his lap, and James climbs onto it the best he can. The computer chair’s not very stable, or steady, but Brett rolls them ever so slow and careful to the table, locks the wheels in place. James leans back against the table to keep himself steady, and tries very hard to look appealing. How the fuck do you pose with a gag? Doesn’t bother Brett, at least, who just rolls his eyes with a grin and slides his hands up the shirt, presses his palms to James’ stomach.

“This might be a little risky, but I do kinda wanna fuck you, so are you down?”

James glares and punches Brett in the shoulder, who just laughs and tickles at his sides, which just makes James squirm in return, whining behind the gag.

“C’mon, no one is here! No one’s gonna come back. It’s just us assholes.”

He still glares.

“I won’t let you bang your head if the chair or table breaks. Promise.”

The glare subsides just slightly and James, though still grumpy, gives him a small thumbs up. Brett takes the intiative and rucks his shirt up, hands roaming over his stomach and chest before finding a nipple, thumbing over it. James shivers, goosebumps starting to rise on his skin, and he quickly realizes how hard this is going to be. Fuck having sex in the warehouse after work; that’s the least of his worries. Being non-verbal is slowly becoming the biggest issue at hand.

Still, his body responses is enough for Brett, who leans back and with one hand fumbles in his jacket’s pocket, finds what he’s looking for, and James rolls his eyes. Fucker planned this all along, didn’t he? The tiny bottle of lube makes James lift a hand and flick Brett’s cheek, who just makes biting motions at the air, laughing.

“Yeah, I was prepared, so what?”

Asshole. James hopes his glare is enough, but Brett doesn’t seem bothered by it at all. With the bottle hanging out of his mouth, he begins undoing James’ jeans, getting them down to ruck around his thighs, and then his boxers go next, and Brett just flicks his gaze up at James, who flushes and looks away, hot and embarrassed. Fuck. When did he get so hard? He does hate, just a little, that he lets Brett get him this way.

Brett takes his time, lets a hand just idly palm at James, looking so damned relaxed in the chair while James squirms, hips pushing into the warm touch. Fucker. Fucking fuck.

“You good, James?”

All he can do is nod, but James is still mildly pissed about this all. Brett just decides to tease his head for a moment, thumbing where his precum is collecting, spreading it around the tip, before he moves on, gesturing James to lean against him instead of the table. It still makes James worry for the chair, but he lets his chest touch Brett’s, and Brett unscrews the lid of the bottle with one hand, fumbling for a moment before getting it. James shifts, lifts his hips just slightly as Brett spreads him with one hand, the other pressing against him, and he whines high, muffled behind the gag. It’s just a little cold, but when a finger eases into him, James shudders and drops his head to Brett’s shoulder. Brett just kisses at his neck, pushing his finger past the second knuckle into James, giving it a couple of thrusts before starting to tease his second, ever so carefully pressing it into him, as if James wasn’t used to this by now, as if this is the first time all over again.

It’s kind of sweet. James hates it.

Brett’s thrusting both fingers into him slow and easy, taking care to open him up. His lips trace over the bit of James’ neck he can reach, and then to his beard, nosing against his cheek.

“You good still?”

James nods and rocks his hips back, hoping Brett gets the hint he’s not the most fragile thing in the world, and makes a satisfied sort of noise when Brett does indeed start thrusting his fingers harder, burying them into James with each one, spreading them deep and trying to get James as opened and slick as possible. James just rocks back, starting to feel a little dizzy from the minor lack of oxygen, leaning back a little to sit more against Brett, trying to get him to go even deeper.

“J-Jesus, James. Fuckin’ insatiable sometimes,” Brett laughs, voice a little shaky as he presses his fingers in deep with the new angle, crooks them and rubs up against the bundle of nerves. James shakes, eyes screwed shut as Brett teases him, gripping the edge of the table so tight his knuckles begin to turn white. After a moment, though it feels like eternity, Brett eases up on him, pulls his fingers out and takes the time to wipe them on James’ jeans. He grunts in annoyance, but he’s already too far gone to care too much.

Brett’s moving him again and James assumes the position from earlier; chest to chest, hips high in the air as Brett shuffles with his own jeans and the crinkle of a condom, and then hands are on his thighs, his hips, and Brett’s guiding him down, and James moves slow, shuddering as it takes a few moments of easing downwards and then he’s sitting flushed against Brett, chest heaving as he pants from behind the gag, eyes lid and a loose curls in his face. Brett looks almost just as worse for wear, biting on his bottom lip and breath starting to quicken, hands curled against James’ thighs.

Makes James feel smug, even if he’s the one with the gag.

They sit there forever before James gives a small rock of his hips, tries to tell Brett he’s ready somehow, and Brett takes the cue. He sits up a little straighter and digs blunt fingernails into James’ thighs as he begins to take careful thrusts, barely moving into James. As much as he appreciates Brett’s caution, James is kind of far past being careful and lovey dovey, was past it when the gag was in his mouth, and grinds his hips down instead. Brett shudders and complies with what James wants, using the table as leverage to thrust into him, actually moving this time. They’re still kind of slow and careful, but at least James can meet him with his own hips, and the way Brett _whines_ sounds so good.

James decides with that noise that there’s no need for Brett to even bother with fucking him. Insistent, he pushes Brett back against the chair, and attempts to hold him down, but the nagging fear of how cheap the chairs are gets to him, so he just keeps his hands there loosely, and takes control of the movements, beginning to bounce his hips at a slightly faster pace, swallowing around the gag.

“F-Fuck, ok, jeez,” Brett pants, laughing with a stutter, feeling a bit embarrassed, “c-could have just… said something.”

James musters a weak punch to the shoulder again for that comment, and he knows Brett feels some sort of satisfaction from being a dick, even with James riding him. Asshole. He decides to respond with slowing down, taking smaller hip rolls, lifting and lowering agonizingly slow, just to feel Brett quiver beneath him, using everything he has to not thrust into James. Feels pretty good being in control.

After a moment of teasing, James realizes he can’t really stick to it for much longer, his own desires winning out pretty quickly. He wastes no time in going back to the faster bounces, grinding his hips down every so often, and enjoys watching Brett fall apart beneath him. Even if he’s controlling most of the thrusts, Brett’s still pushing up, desperate to gain it back, and James feels his stomach get tight with heat that the idea that he can just deny Brett everything.

Shit. Maybe he’s the sadist here.

Too busy in his own thoughts and motions, James doesn’t even notice Brett’s shaky hands reaching up, undoing the gag and loosening it. The feeling of it sitting just so in his mouth, not tightened anymore, makes James realize the ache in his jaw of keeping his mouth open, and how fucking _messy_ he is, the drool coating his chin. Fuck.

But it feels good to breathe through his mouth, and feels even better to shout in surprise as Brett uses his distraction to his advantage, pushing James further back on the table and standing just slightly, snapping his hips up into him, and James falls apart.

His body shakes as he comes, shouting again into the echoes of the warehouse, covering his face with his arms. Brett’s not far behind, burying deep into him, giving the smallest of thrusts to finish himself off. They sit like that for a couple of minutes, panting in the quiet of the warehouse, Brett’s head lowered and James still hiding behind his arms, chest heaving.

“... Fuck, James.”

“You’re a fucking old pervert and I hate you,” James states as if it’s matter of fact, and Brett laughs, scrubs a hand through his hair.

“We really need to work on your bedside manners,” Brett pulls out, grimacing just slightly, and James hears him shuffling around, knows the routine by now. He only sits up when he hears the squeak of the chair, glaring at Brett lounging in it, gag around his neck.

“You’re an asshole.”

“Kiss?” Brett puckers his lips and James wants to clock him, but still, he leans down and pecks the corner of his mouth instead. Brett shrugs, takes it anyways. A kiss is still a kiss, James supposes.

He fixes himself, boxers and jeans hiked back up and redone, wipes his mouth off on the arm of his long-sleeved shirt, and still manages to get in a small cuddle with Brett, rubbing cheeks like a needy cat before hopping off the chair, still worried it would break under their weight.

But still, when they leave, careful of cleaning up after themselves, Brett follows him home in his own car like a lost puppy, and James kind of hates how cute he looks lounged out on his couch with Ein on his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> you got me. james spittin all over the place is kinda hot. i have no excuse for myself except its been Centuries since i wrote sex sex and god it shows. Yikes! guess the only thing i needed to get out of my writing block was this


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